


An Honor to Serve

by orphan_account



Series: Bound in Service [1]
Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Abuse of trust, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Mentor/Student, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Spanking, Oral Sex, Service, Sexual Abuse, Spanking, Underage - Freeform, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 13:22:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11990682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Roger was a cunning spider, and Alex a black mosquito thirsty for blood trapped in his glittering web.





	An Honor to Serve

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Please be aware that this story contains underage sex, non-consensual sex, and sex between a student and mentor, so use discretion when deciding to read it.

An Honor to Serve

Alex never understood the flowery language of courtship—the odes to eyebrows and sonnets to nostrils—that the Mithran priests make them read and clumsily write in a literature class that to Alex always seemed like a waste of time that could better be spent with a sword in his hand. He only knew the cool courtesy of chivalry and the impartial logic of algebra, so when the Duke of Conte—still with the air of novelty clinging to him like his Carthaki cologne after his return from that empire—summoned Alex to his chambers, Alex felt as hopelessly adrift as a drowning sailor clutching onto bobbing driftwood after his ship has sunk into the depths of the sea in a merciless storm when it came to answering Duke Roger’s causal charm. 

“Your Grace.” Alex bowed stiffly, not because he disliked Duke Roger but just because he was never comfortable unless he was wielding a sword or solving a mathematical problem. “You summoned me.” 

“So I did.” Roger’s teeth flashed like a hundred stars as he flashed Alex a smile that was so dazzling that Alex averted his gaze for fear of being blinded by the light. He felt like a moth flying dangerously close to a candle, dying of the light to which he was so inexorably and inexplicably attracted. “Duke Gareth tells me you are the best swordsman among the squires.” 

“I do my best.” Alex wasn’t certain whether he should bow again so he settled for ducking his head. 

“You ought to have a proper swordsman for a knightmaster,” mused Roger, drumming his fingers on the arms of his mahogany chair. “Someone like me, for instance.” 

Alex’s breath caught in his throat, since the man that everyone wanted as their knightmaster couldn’t possibly be offering him the chance to serve as squire, and he choked out, “I beg your pardon, Your Grace.” 

“Will you be my squire, Alexander of Tirragen?” Roger’s fingers stretched out across the distance separating him from Alex to clutch at Alex’s elbow as if he were as desperate to have Alex in his service as Alex was to serve him. 

“Of course, Your Grace.” Alex didn’t know whether he was supposed to kneel, but, since his knees were quaking, he slipped to the floor in front of Roger’s polished boots. “I would be honored to serve as your squire.” 

“I would be honored to have you as my squire.” Roger’s hand cupped Alex’s cheek, which warmed in response to the duke’s touch. “If you prove worthy, that is.” 

“If I prove worthy?” Cursing himself for being a feeble echo, Alex gawked up at Roger. He had seemingly been invited into the duke’s service, and now that opportunity was being snatched from him again. Maybe this was all some cruel trick, the entertainment of building his hopes only to dash them again and fanning the flames of his ambition only to smother them again. A royal family whim with no consideration for the human emotions toyed with. 

“Show me how good you would be at serving me.” Roger’s voice was a purr, as one of his fingers tickled a path down to Alex’s gaping lips. Tracing a ring around Alex’s lips, which were too stunned to pull away from the duke’s exploration, he ordered, “How would you serve me with your lips if you were my squire, Alex?” 

Alex felt almost as discomfited by the duke’s use of his nickname as he was by the fingers that were now probing inside his mouth, stroking his tongue and then smearing saliva along his shaking lips, which could only gasp, “What do you mean, Your Grace? Do you want me to read to you, sing to you, compliment you, or defend your honor?” 

Those were the only ways that Alex could imagine a squire serving his knightmaster with his mouth, but Roger snorted derisively. “My honor doesn’t need defending, reading is something I’ve been able to do myself since childhood, and singing and flattery are best reserved for women, don’t you think?” 

“Yes, Your Grace.” Alex was too preoccupied trying not to gag as Roger’s finger pushed into his throat. 

“I want a man’s service from you, Alex.” Roger removed his invading finger from Alex’s throat but Alex didn’t have a chance to breathe nonetheless be grateful before Roger tugged Alex’s clammy palm to the buttons of his breeches, the silk of which were straining over a bulge that made Alex’s intestines knot. “Undo my breeches.” 

“I couldn’t, Your Grace,” stuttered Alex, and he would have jerked his hand away from Roger’s erection if Roger’s hadn’t seized his wrist in a vise-grip and twisted so sharply that Alex feared it would be broken. 

“Unless I am very much mistaken, which I rarely am, squires are duty-bound to undress their lords, are they not, Alex?” Roger arched an eyebrow down at Alex from what seemed a tremendous height, the vast chasm separating deaf gods from appealing mortals. 

Alex couldn’t speak—couldn’t even breathe—so he shook his head in mute denial even though he knew that Roger stated the awful truth. 

“Answer the question.” Roger’s palm stung Alex’s lips so swiftly—like lightning spearing across a summer sky—that Alex wouldn’t have believed that he had been struck at all if it hadn’t been for the telltale tang of blood seeping onto his tongue. Tears welled in his eyes, and he blinked them away, reminding himself tartly that they would not solve his problems and would only multiply his shame.  
“Yes, Your Grace.” Alex fumbled around in his pocket for his handkerchief to wipe the blood from his mouth but Roger pinched the shell of Alex’s ear so forcefully that Alex froze. 

“Don’t squirm like a rat,” snarled Roger, tugging on Alex’s earlobe with sufficient strength that Alex feared it would be yanked off. “Are you a rodent or a man?” 

“A man, Your Grace.” Alex willed himself to remain still as Roger cuffed his ear and then stroked it with a tenderness that belied the fact that he had just abused it. 

“Undo my breeches.” Alex could barely hear the duke’s words over the ringing in his ear drum. 

“Why?” Alex couldn’t bring himself to shame himself by agreeing but he couldn’t disgrace himself by denying the command either. 

“Watch your mouth.” Roger slapped Alex’s mouth so hard that his jaw clacked in protest, shutting his teeth over his tongue. So much blood from his lips and his tongue flooded his mouth that Alex wondered whether he was going to drown in his own blood. “Your place is to obey, not to question.” 

“Yes, Your Grace.” More blood trickled from Alex’s mouth as he said these words, feeling as broken as a man strung on a wrack for days. 

“Then you know what to do.” Roger’s smile—as bright as always—looked like a leer as he nodded at the bulge in his breeches. 

Closing his eyes and trying to pretend that he was anywhere—even a wretched literature class listening to the droning of a Mithran priest—instead of in Roger’s chambers, Alex tentatively rested his hand over the mountain between Roger’s thighs that he was expected to scale. Before his courage could desert him, Alex scrabbled with Roger’s buttons, torn between taking forever to accomplish this humiliating task and between rushing through it so this nightmare could be over sooner. 

“Open your eyes and look at me.” Roger tapped Alex’s eyelid, and not wanting a black eye for another act of resistance, Alex obeyed and stared into Roger’s cock, which, because he was kneeling, was thrust by Alex’s lips, moist with saliva and blood. He had expected Roger’s penis to be pallid, since the entire Conte line was as pale as Alex was swarthy, but it was pink as a sunburned nose and crisscrossed by swelling blue veins. 

“It’s not polite to stare at your knightmaster’s private parts, Alex,” scolded Roger, hand tangling in Alex’s hair and pushing his head so that his lips were close enough to kiss Roger’s dick. “You must be punished for your immodesty.” 

“That’s not fair, Your Grace,” Alex protested, because nobody could prevent themselves from staring at a penis that had been shoved unwillingly into their face. “You told me to look at you.” 

“I meant at my face, not my privates.” Roger’s lips pursed. “You are being most impertinent, and I’m afraid you’ll now need to be punished twice: once for your immodesty and once for your impudence.” His palm curled around Alex’s chin as he continued in a tone that contained all the quiet menace of a venomous snake slithering through green grass to accost unwary picnickers, “Before you stared at me like a Corus whore, I was only going to make you pleasure me with your hands, but since you have no shame, I will require you to suck me with your tongue, and because you were so pert, I think I will spank you while you do so. Lower your breeches, Alex.” 

Mortified but seeing no way out of his dilemma, Alex slowly slid his breeches from his waist down to his thighs, exposing a shriveled penis that was nowhere near as aroused by the scene unfolding as Roger’s was. The room felt cold around the only soft skin on Alex’s body—his buttocks—although a fire cackled like a crone in the marble hearth. 

“No wonder you were so impressed with my appendage when yours is so measly.” Roger smirked at the cock cowering between Alex’s legs and then landed a searing swat to Alex’s vulnerable backside. The smacks peppering his hindquarters knocked Alex forward into Roger’s waiting dick, and a gasp at a particularly vicious assault on his rump caused his lips to shut around the penis. 

He tasted the iron of his own blood and the salt of tears that must have started to slip down his cheeks while he was being spanked, and he couldn’t breathe around the penis he was swallowing. “Don’t bite down,” Roger warned, hammering at Alex’s thighs to emphasize this important instruction. “If you hurt my cock, I will spank yours black and blue.” 

Alex gagged but did not bite down as Roger’s slaps drove his throat deeper down Roger’s dick. Alex world dissolved into pain and he didn’t know how long it took before the briny taste of Roger’s semen deluged his mouth. Panicking, he tried to spit out the slimy liquid clogging his throat, but Roger pressed his lips shut and hissed in his ear, “Swallow.” 

Alex’s shame tasted worse than the semen as he forced the vile liquid down his throat and into his squirming stomach. 

“I accept you into my service.” Roger’s fingers brushed across Alex’s ear and mouth, healing his exterior injuries—presumably so nobody would see bruises blooming across Alex’s face tomorrow and ask awkward questions—but leaving his internal ones raw and aching. “You will tell no one what we do in private. You will obey me and keep my secrets like a good squire.” 

“It is an honor to serve.” Alex recited the rote words with a dull note, thinking that service was more of a disgrace than an honor at this point, but Roger was a cunning spider, and Alex a black mosquito thirsty for blood trapped in his glittering web.


End file.
